Angry Kiss (Postlude)
by freewrite12
Summary: Just some more freewriting, set After Will and Alicia's "Angry Kiss" from Episode 4x14. Rated M. Reviews are always appreciated.


_This occurs right after the "Angry Kiss" from the most recent episode (4.14). If you haven't seen it… go, go, GO._

"No, no, no," he muttered under his breath as he watched her storm away.

They were done.

He had been done.

Until she had started playing firm politics. He was sure the fourth year meetings were a gambit, that's all. But it was annoying to have to placate David Lee. Hell, it was annoying to have to _anything _David Lee. But he could understand. He'd do the same, truth be told.

But then she had made him look like an amateur in front of a spooked, angry client. A client who was maybe going to bolt.

And he couldn't handle being that mad… not while he was feeling so damn guilty.

Watching it all happen to her… one thing after another. Her finding out about the other partner offers while on the stand. The revocation… sorry, "postponements." What was about to happen, breaking up the fourth-year alliance. He knew it wasn't his fault, really, but he just felt so damn _bad._

And in the midst of all of this, when he had almost forgotten the smell of her hair and the sound of her laughs (the private, sudden, unexpected ones) and just after he had learned to stop himself from recalling the arch of her back… he had to watch her put on a goddamn clinic in court. She was tactical and elegant and brilliant and exquisite.

It was too goddamn much.

And then she broke in front of him… just for a second. She seethed… let out a white-hot anger. He saw a flash of her private thoughts, like he used to, sometimes. And then he could see it in her eyes that she knew she'd gone too far, yelled at her boss, who, in that moment, wasn't her friend or her lover or her superior, but something painfully, inappropriately, uselessly in between. And even though she was right, she was scared… and he couldn't stop himself from going to her.

And now he was right back where he started, progress all undone.

Standing in her office, breathless and half-hard, as the elevator slid down and away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You don't do that," she repeated, tapping her fists on her forehead as she rode down to the garage.

Mercifully, her keys were in her pocket, and she was spared the indignity of sneaking back upstairs to retrieve them.

Although there was a time following a kiss when she did go back…

Stop it.

Sliding behind the wheel, she took a steadying breath. They had been fine, finally. Mostly. And she was so goddamn pissed… at the firm, the situation, her own excitement for the now-withdrawn promotion. She didn't expect him to take blame, that probably wasn't even really fair, but when he had the audacity to storm in and deny what had been done to the fourth years, done to her… the pure shittyness of the situation, she was mad at _him. _It had felt so goddamn good to yell, to finally say it out LOUD.

And then he stepped to her, and kissed her. And she found herself…

Shaking her head, and jamming the key in the ignition harder than was strictly necessary, she headed home.

…

He would just not think about it, is all. That's fine.

Standing under the warm stream of the shower, he tried to summon the mock trial… how could he turn this shitshow around? Even spin what had already happened…

It was just no fucking use. The warm water slid over his shoulders and his mind drifted… he saw her angry and hurt, and felt the yearning to reach out to her, to comfort her… and ask for her forgiveness. He could feel her lips on his, and feel her breath hitch with surprise. Did he imagine that she had moaned, or had he substituted another auditory memory in place of tonight's… maybe the time against the wall in the entryway, or a late night after drinks, or their the first night…

He couldn't stop the thoughts. Though, to be fair, he didn't turn the shower to 'cold.'

Sighing, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel.

Toweling off and heading to the bedroom, trying to snap himself back to reality, he swore at himself again. He should probably be thinking about sexual harassment, really. Who berates an employee and then accosts them? Maybe he subconsciously missed that suspension.

Sure, he moved to her. He knew that. But then, he remembered, her hand had instinctively gone to the back of his neck. Probably a reflex. But then, slowly moving his lips away from hers, he felt her lean in, her forearm moving to his shoulder, pulling him closer. He was sure of it.

Dammit.

Leaning back against the headboard, he let the towel fall open and wrapped a hand around his cock.

…

Oh, how she was grateful for teenagers. At first, the apartment threatened quiet, but soon there was a computer dispute to be mediated and a grocery list to be appended to and criticized. But eventually, having surpassed their parent tolerance thresholds, Zach and Grace retired to their respective rooms.

And then it got quiet.

The darkness in her bedroom was heavy, the silence empty. She burrowed deeper into the cocoon of her blankets. The panic had subsided, and she was too tired of machinations and strategy to think about what to do next. Maybe sleep would come.

Maybe?

She wasn't innately attracted to Will when he was angry. But the kiss hadn't felt angry, it had felt… apologetic. Desperate.

And really, he had moved first. She had been shocked when he closed the distance between them. Or had she? She sighed, unconsciously. Then why was she so mad at herself?

Because she had kissed him back… let her mouth move against his and relaxed into his body. Just for a second (and she had pulled away!) but there was no denying. He must have felt it. She wasn't imagining it: she remembered too vividly the feel of his absurdly expensive suit under her fingers, collar mussed at the end of the day rather than pressed like in the mornings, and his heavy breathing. He hadn't tasted good… like Trident and coffee… but he tasted like him, and she remembered that.

It was too damn recently that she would have kept kissing him… maybe opening her mouth in invitation or biting his lip… bold things she had only recently rediscovered. She definitely would have used her index finger to trace the Aquiline nose, maybe tugging on his ear before returning to his shoulder. She used to tease him by lifting one leg slightly, pressing the inside of her thigh against the outside of his. That had ended particularly well in his entranceway, once.

Once. Would have. Used to.

They were done, she was pissed, but in that second all she had wanted to do was take off his clothes.

Turning over onto her side, she slowly slid a hand down her body. Thoughtlessly, remembering his scent, she bit the pillow. Having drifted too far to wonder if it was a good idea or not, she began to gently thrust her hips.


End file.
